


Two By Two, These Hands Gone Blue

by FannishMinded



Series: Late Night Tumblr fics [2]
Category: Firefly, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, Blue Sun in Sherlock, Fusion, Horror, Human Experimentation, No Beta, child endangerment, old fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-03-09 23:04:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3267659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FannishMinded/pseuds/FannishMinded
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by/rambled out on tumblr: http://fannishminded.tumblr.com/post/25464248972/a-list-of-fictional-ladies-river-tam-i-remember</p><p>When Sherlock was 7, he wanted to be a pirate. He also wanted to go to a different school than Mycroft. He wanted to be his own man- and he had heard of an academy that had just opened.<br/>He had begged and begged to go, and when he was 8, Mycroft, just graduating from University at the tender age of 16, convinced Lady Holmes that it would be no harm in him going to this academy. It was new but had produced some of the most amazing minds in the last few years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two By Two, These Hands Gone Blue

When Sherlock was 7, he wanted to be a pirate. He also wanted to go to a different school than Mycroft. He wanted to be his own man- and he had heard of an academy that had just opened. He had begged and begged to go, and when he was 8, Mycroft, just graduating from University at the tender age of 16 himself, convinced Lady Holmes that it would be no harm in Sherlock going to this academy- It was new but had produced some of the most amazing minds in the last few years.

And Sherlock applied for the newest program, instead of the main Academy, as the main school had only ever taken children as young as 13 before. This new program was perfect, taking extremely gifted children from around the globe in on scholarship, was opening for children as young as 10- Sherlock was tested, and scored higher than any of the new applicants even in the original teen program.

Exceptions were made for Sherlock- and for a year Sherlock was thrilled with the challenges, Mycroft could not get young Sherlock to STOP talking about how amazing and fantastic it was that Christmas…

But then, that spring, Sherlock declined to come home… then that summer he chose to stay at summerschool. It continued, for almost a full year until, finally, after Sherlock refused to come home for Christmas, Mycroft went to retrieve his errant brother and scold him for making their mother fret so.

It was then he discovered that his brother was not at the Academy anymore,had not been for some time- ever, if the school was to be believed…

It took Mycroft two more years to even find traces of Sherlock, and another year after that to have enough power and pull to extract Sherlock…

Mycroft pulled and wove and barely slept for all his maneuverings and research. Three days before Sherlock turned 13, the project Blue Hands was discontinued and the young subjects and trainees were taken into government control. Two were so violent and mad they could not be allowed outside of a maximum security mental hospital, one killed herself, and yet another disappeared during transportation… the previously docile young Irish lad having killed three agents as he escaped.

Sherlock, his sweet brother that tried to climb him and told horribly complex puns, the boy that wanted to be a pirate and be his own man… was no more. Instead there was a half mad boy- so much younger than he had been and also so much older. Scars dotted his shaven head and chords of muscle wrapped a body far to young for such, though lythe, firm toning and definition.

Mycroft cried that first night he had gotten Sherlock alone, after his brother had barely acknowledged him.

The best rehabilitation that blackmail, bribery and maneuvering could gain access to was arranged, and Sherlock seemed to be slowly learning to mimic humanity.

And then a simple cartoon jingle on TV triggered a programmed response that wiped much of that progress in seconds flat.

It also proved that those chords of muscle were not just from simple exercises.

Mycroft could hide it this time- it was a butler with no family- but next time… he had to know the triggers. He had to protect Sherlock. He had failed him once… he wouldn’t fail him again.

Till then, Sherlock could not pretend to be normal. There were too many potential triggers in being normal. 

He was too dangerous, and too hard to hide, if he were normal.

And Mycroft could not simply hide him away, for fear of some rogue group wanting to use him.

Especially after he learned a few of the lists of triggers. 

This would be a balancing act, one that they both would need to participate in. 

The problem is, Sherlock was again a semi-blank slate; awaiting the bare bones of his cover. And all Mycroft wanted, was that brilliant and happy and annoying little brother back. 

So Mycroft did the unforgivable, he used those triggers, and crafted the best cover he could.

He became the monster, to save his brother... by killing any chance of that fanciful boy from ever returning. 

He crafted a man on the edge, but in an acceptable, explainable way.

Made a man unappealing to any other group.

Made a man damaged and obviously brilliant but also obviously obsessed.

He made a man that shunned all popular media and knowledge of any of the subjects that had trigger words in them.

He made Sherlock, into a man on the brink of becoming a monster, to hide him from the other monsters.

And he never regretted it. 

No, he did, but he never let himself second guess it. 

Not even when Sherlock declared him his nemesis, and began to self medicate.

And he almost, just almost, felt that everything might work out, when John Watson walked away from St. Barts after shooting a cabbie for Sherlock.


End file.
